He heard it again that night. It was midnight and way past his bed time. He had been asleep, but the sound of a piercing scream woke him up, like it had done so many nights before. He never knew whose scream it was, but he knew where it came from.
The barn. His father’s barn.
He’s never been inside, doesn’t even know what it looks like. Every time he would ask, his father would have smiled and told him to never go in there. It wasn’t for children. That night had been the first night he had actually heard the screams. He had left his window open.
This time, he decided he would look for the one screaming in so much pain. He couldn’t bear it. So he got out of his little bed and his small little feet made contact with the cold, hard floor, making him hiss because of the cold. His feet is sensetive. Nonetheless, he took small steps towards the door, his small hand taking a hold on and turned the door knob and carefully opened the door, to make as little noise as possible. He wouldn’t want to wake up his father.
He tip toed downstairs and towards the hall to put on his black sneakers. They’re used and old, but still good and warm. He took his black bubblejacket on because it's probably cold outside. If it’s as cold as it is in the day in the winter, it’s even colder at night.
He quietly opened the door and sneaked outside, closing the door carefully behind him. In that moment, another scream filled the air, making him jump and his heart beat to increase. He has never liked to see anyone in pain and this scream was just full of it. He turned towards the barn, his hands shaking a bit as he breathed out a shaky, frosty breath. He had no idea why, but he was scared. Someone was obviously hurting that person in his father's barn. What if he or she would hurt him too? Should he just go back inside and pretend he never heard anything?
Another scream decided for him, and he practically ran towards the barn. His little feet made no sound in the little snow that was covering the ground, but his footsteps were obvious. That was the part he didn’t like.
His hands were shaking as he reached for the barn door and slided it open, slowly. He had to blink sometimes, because inside there was light. Strong light compared to the dark, dark night outside. He carefully stepped inside, sliding the door closed behind him. He looked around. Nothing. But it was here the scream came from, he was sure of it.
There was a lot of weapons, he saw. Guns, knives, daggers and other things he did not know what was, but had a strong feeling could end his life. Why was these things in his father’s barn? His father was an artist, he did not need these things.
And again, the scream returned, higher now that he was so close. Beneath. It came from beneath him. But there was no door, no stairs. Nothi- wait. There was a line in the floor. A completed circle. A door in the floor. That’s his way down. He walked towards it and sat down on his knees. He took a hold of the knob on the door and pulled. The door was heavy and he almost didn’t make it, but then it slowly moved upwards and soon it was open and his arms ached. His little arms weren’t made to lift such heavy things.
It was dark down there. Stairs leading the way down into the darkness and he just wanted to run away and hide in his bed. It was like something down there was watching him, just waiting for a chance to slit his throat.
He walked down the stairs, nonetheless. He was shaking as he needed to feel where he was going to put his feet when he went down. He didn’t see a thing. He just walked around blindly in the darkness. After what seemed like hours, he saw a light. He walked towards it and it turned out to be a door with a light over it. He slowly reached out for the door knob and he turned it, opening the door slowly and he peeked inside first.
It was a room, obviously. But on both sides, on the walls, there was... cocoones? They were shaped like human females. He walked in and studied them as he walked past. They each had different body types and forms. Though they faces had all a face of horror, their mouths wide open, as if... screaming. His stomach turned as realisation dawned upon him and he counted the poor women. Fourty six. Fourty six women who had been tortured - the only explanation for their screaming? - and killed. This is their dead bodies, wrapped in fabric that seemed like a spider's web or the cocoon of a butterfly.
He couldn’t be there any longer, so he ran for the door at the other end of the room, his hand on the door knob as the scream came once again. He froze. It’s in here. The scream came from that door. He felt cold and he was scared. That woman in there was probably even more scared and in pain. He bit his lip as he opened the door slowly. What met him made his insides turn and horror made him freeze in his place. It was-
Harry’s eyes flew up as he gasped. A dream. A memory. His breathing was ragged and uneven, his eyes wide and panicked, flashing around the room, looking for monsters in the dark. They were there, he was sure, but they didn’t come at him. They never did. Not from the shadows, anyway, only in the form of humans. That’s the reason Harry didn’t trust anyone. His trust has been broken too many times, and over and over again he had hoped that this person he could trust, this person wouldn’t break him. Every time he would be proven otherwise and after a while he learned to just accept it. He couldn’t trust anyone but himself, and even himself he couldn’t trust fully. Because inside every human being, there’s a monster. No matter how nice or how innocent they are. Deep, deep down there’s a monster lurking, just waiting to surface. It seems Harry’s always the one to give them that chance. Every happy and kind person that would dare to befriend him ended up either as a monster or dead. He learned his lesson. Low profile and no human contact.
It’s rather ridicilous how every being on the Earth is evil. No one can be trusted. No one. Harry, of course, learned that the hard way. He decided two years ago that he would not trust anyone again. He would not even speak to another human again. He told himself it was to protect himself, he did it because he hates humans, himself. Truth be told, he’s scared. He's scared shitless. Every day there’s a fear that maybe one person might take him by surprise and kill him, just like that. No one would know, because to them Harry Styles doesn’t exist. His existence is hidden.
He groans as he lifts his feet to put them on the hard floor made of wood. He slowly gets up from his bed, which creaks in protest. His little cottage is about to break down and he soon needed to find a new place to stay. He walks into his little bathroom and he looks at himself inside that mirror. Harry wasn’t smiling. His eyes were dark and tired, but there was never any zits, marks or wrinkles on his face. He looks absolutely healthy. Harry glares at his reflection, and his reflection smirks back at him with a cheeky wink and an evil glint in his eyes. His monster. Unlike most people, his monster had surfaced, but they were as one. They worked together, even if Harry had made sure that the monster knew he hated it. He has tried to get rid of it, but the monster is constantly in his mind, whispering and yelling. He wishes his monster would have stayed deep within him.
You can’t decieve yourself forever, Harry, his monster whispers in his head, voice dripping with venom. Just let go. It’ll be better, I promise. Let me take over. Even if they work together, his monster will never stop trying to get Harry to let go, to let the monster win. Harry never gives in. He knows too much to be so naive to believe that monster. He has seen too much. He sighs and grabs his toothbrush. He brushes his teeth while ignoring the constanst whispers of his monster. He can’t wait until the moment when it needs to recharge and disappears for a week or two. Did he mention that? Monsters also have energy and when that’s spent they need at least a week to recharge, and they go back deep, deep inside. Only to come back, but even so, a week or two is better than absolutely nothing. Harry had nothing to complain about. Well actually, he had a lot to complain about, his life was in the dark, while most people didn’t even know this world exists. It isn’t fair. Nothing is ever fair for Harry, it seems.
After an hour he’s dressed in tight, black and ripped jeans with a plain white v-neck. He has his black converse on and he puts on a black leather jacket. His curls are already pushed backwards, giving him a mature and dangerous look. Just like he wanted. He wants people to stay away from him the rare times he actually comes into town. Right now, Doncaster is where he’s headed, a town he isn’t very used to. He hasn’t been there before, hasn’t had the nerve because he always gets nervous when going to a new town. New town means new monsters and demons. He doesn’t know them, he won’t know how to fight them.
He opens the door and walks out, the dark woods welcoming him. He breaths in the fresh air and a small, tiny smile makes its way onto his lips. He loves the nature, always has. It’s the only pure thing here, even if there’s evil things lurking in it. They’re also using the nature to hide. Harry knows this and he’s always on the look out. Never know when someone might jump you. He knows that all too well.
He begins to walk towards where he knows Doncaster is located. His hands in his pocket because it's freaking cold and he doesn't like the cold. Never has. But he handles it, and soon he can hear the distant sound of cars and people. He gulps. He hates this part. As soon as he walks into town everyone eyes him. Suspicious. Wary. Scared. Then they look away, pretending to have never even noticed him, afraid of what he’ll do to them if he noticed them looking. Harry is actually harmless, unless the person deserves it. Sure, he may take a gun and shoot someone without a second thought, he may take a knife and stab someone without feeling a thing about it, but that’s just how he learned to survive. He wishes for someone to love him, to care. He wants a real home and warmth. But that’s impossible for him, isn’t it? Yes, it definitely is. He’s reminded every day. He can hear the faint whispers around the townspeople.
“Who’s he? He looks dangerous.”
“Stay away from him, don’t look. He’ll probably hurt you.”
“I bet he’s a serial killer. Or a thief. Something dangerous and deadly, I’m sure.”
“Why is he here? As long as he stays away from those I love, I don’t really care.”
Somehow, they think he can’t hear them. Oh, how wrong they are. But Harry pretends he doesn’t hear, pretends he can’t hear or see them whispering about him. He doesn’t want to admit it, but it kinda hurts. They judge him without knowing him, but he knows he brought it on himself, the way he makes himself look. His once big, innocent, emerald green eyes are now dark and dangerous.
He’s brought out of his trance as a hard body knocks into his and he falls backwards, straight onto his ass. He yelps and hisses out of pain. Where the hell had that person come from? They always stray away from him.
“Oh my god, I am so sorry! Come on, let me help you,” an angelic voice exclaims and Harry looks up, only to be met by the most beautiful, blue eyes he has ever seen.
=====+++=====
Hii *waves*
So this is just an idea I got, and yeah, it'll involve murder and death and tears. *sob*
BUT, maybe some sick humour too, somwhere, and we can't live without fluff, now can we?
Feedback is most welcome! ;D (even though it's highly doubtful there will be any readers)
Adìos, chicos y chicas!